A Winter Day
by Reni Readiris
Summary: It's Christmas time and Katniss is bored. She goes out to checks the mail on a snowy day but ends up getting into a snowball fight. But Peeta asks a question that has a yes or no answer. Will she say yes? Post Mockingjay but before the epilogue!


**A/N: Most of you are waiting for Forbidden Love. I have horrible writers block on it! Anyway, camibandlover made this story a lot better! She beta'd and wrote like a lot of it so thanks gurf! I don't own The Hunger Games.**

(**Katniss' POV)**

This is the first time Peeta and I have gotten to actually enjoy the snow together. After the Games ended, there was the rebellion. After the rebellion, there was the fact that Peeta wanted to sometimes rip my head off. I do not mind. He has it under control now. But the first year, it wasn't always like that. We had to spend time together, time apart, time angry and time sad at each other. Eventually, we decided to start over.

And now it's Christmas, my favorite season. Peeta's favorite season is summer. Mine is not. I've always been fascinated by the snow, the tiny flakes that fall from the sky and into the floor, flakes that are so small, yet they manage to look really big.

I'm sitting on the couch, watching the snow come down. They make the ground outside our house white; decorate the trees and the grass. Peeta's baking some type of bread, I don't know which, but it smells like heaven, and it's how I imagined Christmas would be. However, sitting on the couch while holding a mug full of hot chocolate is not my idea of a perfect winter day.

What to do, what to do? I decide to go get the mail. Hopefully it's gotten here already, but I can never be sure.

Just as I reach the mailbox, I'm pelted with snow. I spin around and see Peeta standing a few feet away from me, looking all innocent, acting like he didn't throw a snowball at me just a second ago. I glare at him and point over to the side of the house, faking like there's something there. He turns around and I throw snow at him as fast as I can. I'm thankful for my aim. The ball hits him on the back of the head, and Peeta turns around. I'm faster than him, so I run past him before he can form a coherent thought.

I hide behind the basement door. I hear footsteps, the crunching of his boots against the snow, getting closer to my hiding spot. When Peeta is close enough to see me, I pelt him in the face with two snowballs. Some of the snow goes down his coat. His shocked, "pissed" face makes me laugh. I see him come over to me and run as fast as I can, but not with my heart in it. I want him to catch me, in a way, but at the same time, I want him to chase until it hurts. Sadly, he catches me, picks me up, and throws me over his shoulder. Not what I expected. I shriek, trying to suppress the laughter bubbling in my throat.

"Peeta! Set me down!" I tell him, hoping it comes off as serious, but the truth is, I'm laughing.

He holds me up for a long time; long enough to make me wonder why he hasn't frozen to death. I keep shrieking, begging him to set me down. Finally, after an eternity, he does. The blood rushes down to my face.

"I love you," Peeta says, catching me off guard. He's looking at me differently, like I've changed. And maybe I have, but he hasn't ever looked at me that way, at least not since The Hunger Games finished the first time.

I stand in my tiptoes and kiss him lightly. "I love you, too."

We look at each other for a few moments before I clear my throat. He looks away, but not out of embarrassment. He's staring ahead of me, wonder filling his expression.

"Katniss," he says slowly. "If I tell you I have this crazy idea—this possibly suicidal idea—will you listen to it?"

"I don't see why not," I say, but I've stiffened. I hope he isn't under the influence of the Capitol—of what they did to him.

"That lake." He points at it. "Can we skate on it?"

I inspect it for a long time. It is December. I've seen kids skate on lakes before. I know the bad things that can happen. But, at the same time, I know he needs it. So do I. We need to feel free, like we control something aside from our love.

I take his hand.

"Yes."

He smiles and leads me inside the house. I go up into our room and get our ice skating boots. We take them with us and run to the lake, fully aware that the blade at the bottom can kill us, but not really caring. I will never hurt me. I almost believe that he will never hurt me.

The lake is white and frozen and beautiful. I slip on my boots. We bought them two weeks ago, and this is the first time I will use them. I hope it isn't the last.

"Come on," Peeta says, holding his hand out. I give him mine, and he squeezes it. It is numb beneath the gloves, but his touch warms me up instantly. He leads me inside the lake. At first, I feel like I'm going to fall. I get this horrible feeling in my gut, telling me I will die in the lake.

But then Peeta leads me inside, farther in, and I realize it'll be okay.

At the beginning, we mostly try it out, trying to seek the weak spots on the lake. They aren't where we are, meaning we're able to skate freely. I twirl around, trying hard not to fall and break my ankle—or worse, break the ice.

I decide to skate toward him. He is standing there, looking at the sunset. He says it's his favorite color: the color of the sunset, the orange of it, spilling over the sky like ink over pages. I hold his hand and stand, watching with him. He squeezes it. We are facing each other, and I kiss him again.

Just as I'm about to skate away, he pulls me back in, into his arms. He holds me at arm's length. Wobbly, he starts sitting down.

"Peeta!" I gasp. "What are you doing?"

He is on one knee. I feel like I might faint.

"Katniss Everdeen," Peeta says, the love in his voice filling my eyes with tears. I know what is coming. I shouldn't be surprised. "I love you with my heart and soul. Without you, I am no one. You keep me sane. You tell me what's real."

A tear slips out of my cheek.

"Will you marry me?"

He is holding out a very expensive-looking ring, not that I care about how shiny it looks. All I care is about the boy holding it, the boy with the bread.

I let him slip my ring in my finger.

He stands up.

"Of course I'll marry you, Peeta Mellark." I kiss him, arms wrapped around his neck, wishing I could stand on my tiptoes.

"I," he says, kissing me over and over again between words, "love you."

I let out a delighted laugh. Maybe, just maybe, everything will be okay.


End file.
